


5 Times Derek's Fortune Cookie Was Right, and One Time Stiles Cheated

by oonaseckar



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chinese Food, F/M, Fortune Cookies, Gen, M/M, Restaurants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22214479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oonaseckar/pseuds/oonaseckar
Summary: A broken clock is right twice a day, right?  There's gotta be one cookie that favours true love, for this pair.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 1
Kudos: 33





	1. take a risk, fortune favours the brave

'Romance is waiting around the corner.'

Derek takes a quick look at his fortune -- which he scoffs at, just like horoscopes, but still -- and he sighs, and throws it away.

Chinese takeout is invariably scheduled for after pack meeting on Sundays. Stiles is in college now, and it's an immutable law when he's home. It would be cruel and unusual to try ordering Greek or Italian, still less turning the pack out into the cold hard world to fend for themselves. Or pay for their own food.

It would be cruel to Stiles anyhow. He's obsessed with the Jade Dragon's crispy duck, and anyone can see it. Right now he's leaning against the couch leg, sitting on the floor, and licking plum sauce off his lips with a dreamy smile on his face. Erica kicks him in the leg, and says, “Whatcha thinking about, Stilinski? You look like you're in love. Again.”

“I'm thinking about plum sauce,” Stiles says baldly. “In the Jade Dragon, a young man's fancy turns to plum sauce.” it's probably the exact and literal truth. He's so prosaic, sometimes, Stiles, that Derek despairs. This, right here, is half of why he's never tried to -- to _talk_ to Stiles. About -- _things_.

Of course, it doesn't help when Stiles takes his sock off -- thank God they got takeout and didn't go to a restaurant after all -- and he starts digging at his heel. And then he asks Derek if he thinks Stiles has a verruca. Because, like, of course he can _sniff it out_ with his wolfy hypersenses.


	2. Chapter 2

_'Romance is always around the corner'_

Of course Stiles is the one who actually has to pick it up, first. (Because if he lets Derek order in it's _always_ pizza, and even Stiles can get tired of stuffed-crust goodness.)

But that's okay. It means he can select his preferred cuisine, which usually means Chinese. Not least because his favorite part of getting take-out with the pack is reading their fortune cookies, when they've finished stuffing themselves and chugging all the beers with a showy celebratory burp. (Well, Lydia, anyhow.) That's why he always insists on Chinese, even though Lydia prefers Indian and Scott is allergic to sesame oil. 

And knowing Scott, it's well worth the fuss involved in insisting on rapeseed oil and sesame-free dressings. Although the Jade Dragon staff are well-used to their little peccadilloes, by this point.

Except maybe this time.

He stops off after working all day at the sheriff's office, picking up in person. Because it's always easier to iron out any problems when you're on the spot, and can explain that you _really_ don't want three servings of the lemon chicken, because Isaac will eat two-thirds of it and then fall asleep, same as with turkey. 

And it's Kira on the desk in the takeaway section of the restaurant, which is great. Because they're practically best buds at this point. And as part of the pack, he knows her ethnic heritage, and doesn't come off as an _idiot_ by trying out some of his Duolingo Mandarin on her. Not that he's saying it's happened before now, just... shut _up_.

“Hey, it's been a while, hon,” she snarks, pleasantly mean-ass as ever. “Same as usual for everybody? Yeah, don't forget my sticky orange rice and spicy tofu. I'll catch the last half-hour of the meet. Where's Parrish, delivery boy?”

And Stiles' heart sinks. Because yeah, he and Parrish have been -- uh, he wouldn't call it _dating_. They've been _trying something out,_ for a few weeks. And now they're not, not anymore. 

When you've just broken up with the 'boyfriend', who you were thinking might prove to be the one and only, then it's not your family, work colleagues and closest friends who are the problem. It's the casual acquaintances, the infrequently-met neighbors, the pack-members you see once every couple of months, on a weekend home from college. Anyone, in fact, whom he doesn't know well enough, or meet frequently enough, to have them know all about the break-up _already_. To have seen the rows, the coolnesses, the ugly break-up and the heart-breaking sad aftermath. It's having to explain –- or even mention -- it, all over again. That's what kills him.

Jesus. At least Parrish has been considerate enough to go for the cross-county transfer he was offered. That's something.


	3. Chapter 3

“We broke up,” he says, with a quick, forced smile. It's best to keep it brief. And truthful, he finds. The truth shuts people up pretty good, anyhow, and that's its main benefit.

“Oh, hon,” she says, with unusual real sympathy (for Kira.) “That's so sad. You were so cute together.” That's a matter of opinion, Stiles privately thinks. Parrish's floppy blond crop and green eyes might have set off his own buzzcut and hazel eyes quite nicely, but temperamentally they aren't nearly so matchy-matchy and adorable. Parrish likes to be the boss: not just in bed (which would be fine) but _all_ the time. More accurately, he's a project-focused work-hungry Tasmanian devil, and takes charge in any situation without even thinking about it. Which would be fine, but that generally means he's fighting Stiles for the reins. They're too alike, that's the bottom line.

Now, though, he's made Kira uncomfortable with it, which is a shame. She's not used to the softer emotions: she might strain something. She can't rush through their order and whipping through his card quickly enough, and then Stiles settles down to wait, while she serves newcomers.

But she's still paying attention, and she notices Stiles' flinch, when an elderly Chinese woman in a grey tunic steps out into the front of the take-out section to hand over his order, twenty minutes later.

Stiles stutters with his thanks, noting the smirk on Mrs Zhao's face. And he'd be right out of there, quick as he can. Except that too bad for him, Kira's free at that moment, and the conversation isn't over.

"What's up with _you_ , Stiles?" she asks. Sticking her foot out under the reception desk, all ready to trip him over if he tries to escape. "You had some sweet May/November romance with Mrs Zhao, too, and a tragic break-up?"

Stiles grimaces.


	4. Chapter 4

“Shut _up_ ,” he mutters, wincing uncomfortably.

“Oh, come on,” Kira persists. “I just _have_ to know now.”

Eh. She’ll get the story out of him one way or another, eventually. Or out of Derek, which would be so much worse. “I came here the first time last year,” he says, reluctantly. “Derek drove me, the truck was getting serviced.” He chews his lip, moodily. _He_ isn’t usually the butt of any story he tells about him and Derek. “I’d been learning a little Mandarin,” he says reluctantly. “And when Mrs Zhao came out to take orders, it seemed like a good idea to practise on her.”

Kira’s lip is trembling, just a little. “ _Riiight_. But she let you know, right? Pretty soon?”

“Not for eight minutes!” Stiles bursts out. It’s a torrent that’s been pent-up inside of him, for one long year of Derek's smirks and reminders. “She let me struggle to order for _eight minutes_ — a queue built up behind us! She was _encouraging_ me — _in Mandarin._ And Derek didn’t say anything, either — I thought he was getting furious about waiting so long for me to finish ordering, and that was why his lip was twitching. Then him and Mrs Zhao both started snorting. And when they’d finished laughing — and all the queue full of regulars, too — Derek said, ‘You know, Stiles, I should’ve introduced you. This is Mrs Zhao — my old high-school English teacher, at Beacon Hills. Her son-in-law owns this place, she just helps out on weekends.”

Stiles muses, bitterly. “Oh, he had a grand old time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh so much. Must have been a tonic. Him and his _old buddy_ , Mrs Zhao. How was I to know, anyhow? It was before my time: the _prehistoric times_ when Derek was in high school. Him and the _dinosaurs_."

Oh, Stiles has been served by Mrs Zhao dozens of times since. He’s a regular at the Green Dragon now. And in fact the old lady is a real joy: twinkling at him every visit, sometimes essaying a few dance steps to the swing tunes her son-in-law likes, slipping Stiles extra spring rolls in with his order.

Oh, and speaking flawless, fluent, barely accented English, at all times. Educated, refined, and charming, a bit high-class really to be slumming it in Beacon Hills.


	5. Chapter 5

That's all over now, though. Over, in fact, ever since a visit a couple of weeks back, when he and Parrish were still together. Jordan had popped in, late afternoon, to visit him at the sheriff's office, despite being off duty himself. And when Stiles' work was done for the day, they'd decided that take-out sounded like an _awesome_ idea, and stopped off at the Green Dragon.

Parrish's first introduction to it –- and last, as it turned out.

Because little old Lady Zhao had come out to greet them -- and Stiles had sung out a greeting to her happily. Because he was the little old lady's best bud, by now -- barring Derek -- and she was always happy to see Stiles! Except on that particular day, it seemed like: because Mrs Zhao responded to his greeting with a snapped ' _Good_? Evening. Order please.” And then a stream of Mandarin that Stiles, who hadn't really been making any satisfactory progress on his Duolingo -- Parrish was getting in the way, in a _fun_ way -- could not understand _word one_ of. But he could understand tone, intonation and facial expression, certainly. And if that wasn't a bitterly caustic combination of contempt, derision and dissatisfied disdain, then Stiles didn't know his pickled asian pears from chopped green onions.

Okay, it was perfectly true that, at the moment of the little old lady's entrance into the front of the takeout area, Parrish might have been engaged in a little bit of PDA-style action. But that was just one of the reasons that Stiles liked him –- had liked him. Parrish doesn't have quite enough in the way of boundaries, and he likes to nuzzle. Stiles remembers that fondly.

But they'd broken apart as soon as –- _almost_ as soon as they'd been walked in upon. And anyway, even if she'd been forced into witnessing a little man-on-man ear-nibbling and tongue-tickling, did that justify any kind of a homophobic rearing-back, and sudden loss of all English-speaking language skills, all memory of her friendly acquaintanceship with Stiles? Well, apparently in her mind it did. It infuriates Stiles, and he hasn't had a civil –- English –- word out of her, since. But he stubbornly refuses to stop patronizing the Green Dragon, to take his business elsewhere. Why should he, after all? The old biddy will just have to get used to affectionate queers buying their Kung Pao chicken at her establishment.


End file.
